


Blesséd is Her Name

by tansybells



Series: Flayn Week 2020 [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, Flayn Week (Fire Emblem), Gen, Introspection, Names, Post-Canon, Spoilers for Flayn's Paralogue, Spoilers for...All of Flayn TBH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25242844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells
Summary: Before she was Flayn, she was Cethleann. Cethleann, granddaughter of the progenitor goddess Sothis, one of the four cardinal saints to the people of Fódlan, beacon to those who follow the path of healing and light. Hers was a name synonymous with all things pure and divine.One day, she becomes Cethleann once more.Day Four: Sainthood
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Flayn Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824445
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Blesséd is Her Name

**Author's Note:**

> The songs to which I wrote most of this: [Antebellum](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYb-cNOxe8w) and [Gravity](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ULXgJ18xuY), both by Vienna Teng ❤︎

When she dreams, Cethleann has wings. No longer is she confined to the many walls of the monastery, or to the tight leash that, for all his good intentions, her father has secured around her neck. No. When she dreams, she flies through the air in a draconian form so long locked away that she secretly fears forgetting the sensation of freedom.

It is not her fault that memories wax and wane like the moon above, that the ever-flowing current of time threatens to wash her away with each new wave. It is not her fault that she was written out of her own narrative for nigh upon a thousand years as she slept, nor is it by her hand that she becomes a pillar of religion without compare.

Perhaps, however, it is a little bit her fault that so many years were lost in the first place. She cared too much, she let herself reach far beyond the extent of her grasp, and she fell from history like one who wished to embrace the sun might fall from the sky.

Cethleann, despite anything she may or may not have done, becomes a name most blesséd.

People, parishioners, worshipers, they all call upon her name in hope of receiving her grace and wisdom, her kindness and love. And while she goes by a different name for some time, a choice put forth by a petition to preserve her own life, her heart goes out to each and every one of those prayers. Yet for years on end, she is unable to help any but those she holds close to her being.

Yet, as if she is being rewarded for her patience, she is granted with a second chance. There is little doubt in her mind that she shall long outlive anyone that she allows herself to grow fond of, but she surrounds herself with classmates, friends, _allies_ nonetheless.

It is as though the difference in lifespan makes life all the more precious to her. She can never know when cruelest fate shall take away her people most beloved, so she takes the opportunity to live to the fullest. She wanders, seeing all the world she lives in has to offer. She offers a genuine smile to each person she encounters, and tries to be a friend to those who will have her.

She knows that there is much she has yet to learn, so she faces each oncoming day with all the strength her frail body has to offer.

Sometimes, though, she feels so feeble that her very name, the gift of a name once bestowed upon her by a mother long gone, feels unattainable. It is the name of a distant saint, a child of the goddess, someone who died a millennium ago. It is the name of an ancient young woman who had no choice but to step up and fight against those who dared harm her family. The name of someone who, for the most part, has been left behind for the purpose of moving forward. 

She tucks her name, her blessing, away in a pocket of her heart. And, gathering all the strength she can muster, she turns to face the oncoming dawn with a loving smile and outstretched arms.

  
+++  
  


Years go by. Monasteries crumble into ruins, castles lose their purpose in times of peace, and friends become nothing more than dry bones and headstones tucked away in forgotten cemeteries. 

But Cethleann remains. 

She does not usher in the beginning of a new era, but she is there to nurture and care for those left by the wayside nonetheless. She does not stay by her father's side, for one day, time releases its ageless hold upon her and she is allowed to grow into a woman in her own right. She does not halt and stagnate, stubborn in her refusal to embrace the changing tides and the modernity brought with them, but allows time to pass as it will. 

No longer bound by the wishes of those who wanted nothing more than to ensure her safety, she takes upon her slender shoulders the broad mantle of her name and wears it proudly. After all, there are a million different reasons why one might name their child after a saint of old. Her excuses flow like water.

"My mother liked the sound of the name," she tells one curious person. 

"I have always had a fondness for the archaic," she tells another. 

"It is but an old family name," she says to yet one more. 

But she keeps the truth of her name close to her heart, and tells no one - save the person with whom she shares her heart, her hearth, her home. 

"I call myself Cethleann," she says, the promise of a secret on her lips as naught but love fills the furtive space between her and her partner, "for it is the name I have had my whole life long. It is the name my mother sang to me upon my birth, the single word written upon my father's heart after her passing. It is the prayer lifted up to the heavens by a thousand worshipers and more, and the call by which my presence is granted unto them.

"It is a reminder of never-ending love and hope, and should the Goddess will it, I shall carry it ‘til the end of time itself." 

And when she sleeps—for she does sleep now, as the fear of loss and death is one that all living creatures must come to terms with, saints and ancient dragons notwithstanding—she dreams of the reunion she shall one day hold with all of her loved ones, friend and foe alike. She dreams of falling into the arms of her waiting parents as a crying, smiling, laughing child once more, and when she wakes to greet the new day, she is comforted by the innate surety that she need never hide again. 

And when she dreams, Cethleann has wings. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really struggled with this prompt. I wrote so many other snippets, it's not even funny. Then, right as I got into bed, I somehow wrote the latter half of this on my phone. It's shorter than all the others, but... I can't really set this aside. I like it. What do you think? 
> 
> I'll see you for tomorrow's prompt. ❤︎


End file.
